


Sometimes You just Gotta Tell a Person How They Feel

by babbyspanch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Therapy, incorrectly represented but therapy all the same
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1750025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbyspanch/pseuds/babbyspanch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean and Cas get a new case where only homosexual people in relationships are getting attacked. Sam sees an opportunity to disguise his concern for Dean as a recon mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes You just Gotta Tell a Person How They Feel

Dean trudged his weary way down the street, Cas at his side and cold wind pushing against him like a particularly testosterone filled grocery shopper who just wants to buy some milk and get home goddamn it.

  
There had been a string of murders in town that had become increasingly worrisome once the brothers realized that the teeth of all the victims weren't missing when they were alive, and that a worrying pattern of sexuality emerged with just a little digging.

  
Bobby had never heard of a creature with this weird MO before, so Dean agreed to help research, because there was no way in hell he was helping unless there was no hope of happening across the answer in a truly luck based way. God Dean hated research.

  
Luckily Sam was willing to take care of all the book based research and Dean could focus on something he was actually good at, getting information out of people.  
In this case it was going to be a therapist named Ms Slade. All of the victims had visited her on at least one occasion, and that made Dean suspicious. Sam was more on the fence and wanted evidence to prove that Slade was guilty, and not just the best therapist in town.

  
And Sam had made them an appointment.

  
Them being Dean and Castiel. Sam had warned them that it was going to be a real appointment and that it would probably be best to just play along with whatever she suggested and try and turn around the conversations to the murders whenever possible.

  
Dean had asked, quietly, why exactly Cas had to tag along and Sam rolled his eyes and told him Ms Slade only did counselling with two patients, and that she didn't except one-on-one sessions.

  
Dean had made a dirty joke, and then moved on.

  
Now, as he and Cas were plodding up the front steps of a red brick building, he was rethinking the ease at which he had agreed to go to a therapy session. With Castiel.  
God he'd say something about demons again with Deans luck, but hey, maybe this 'Ms. Slade' would have a thing for blue-eyed pretty boys who had no idea how to interact with normal humans.

  
But really, Dean doubted it.

  
There was definitely something in the air that suggested great disaster on the horizon, and Dean was hoping they could avert it.

  
They door swung open in front of his nose and he stumbled backwards into Castiel, who was standing right behind him, as per usual. He came face to face with a woman with high, meticulously plucked eyebrows and grey eyes that could probably cut through solid steel if they had to. Her lips were tight and pale and her hair was pulled back into a neat bun. She muttered something about ‘idiotic youths’ and shoved past them. Dean glowered at her retreating figure and Castiel put a hand on his arm, which Dean was sure was meant to be a comforting gesture but it was just too much familiarity for Dean right now. Something about this case was hitting home and freaking Dean out and he really just couldn’t deal with emotions right now. He shrugged off Castiel’s hand and stormed through the wooden door, trusting that Cas would follow behind him rather than dragging him like he normally did.

  
When someone found beauty and the miracle of god in pretty much everything it was wise to either stick a roadblock warning sign on them or tug them along by their coat sleeve if you were in a hurry.

  
Dean and Castiel entered a soft yellow room full of watery sunlight and gauzy curtains and cushy lemon arm chairs. Cas seemed to be appreciating the décor so Dean walked up to the front desk and knocked on the wood to get the secretaries attention. A short man looked up and met Deans eyes with an exhausted look, “Hello sir, how can I help you today?”

  
Dean frowned and gave the guy a once over. He had messy brown hair and was pale as death, dark rings clinging to the undersides of his eyes. His clothes were messily put together and wrinkled, the sweater vest he was wearing over his button down very obviously inside out.

  
“Are you okay dude? You look like shit.”

  
The man nodded and ran his hand through his-slightly greasy looking- hair and shot Dean a rueful smile, “Yeah, I’m alright… It’s just… All these hate crimes around town sort of weigh a guy down, you know? My boyfriend works at the bar and I just... I get worried about him.” The man straightened up and forced a larger smile when Cas wandered over to join Dean, “Oh you must be Victoria’s four o’ clock. Sorry for rambling on a bit, I normally wouldn’t if I’d been getting more sleep.”

  
He takes a moment to visibly force himself to stop talking about his sleeping habits, “Ms. Slade just nipped out for a coffee, she’ll be back in a few. Your brother called in for you two right?” He waited for a nod before the flood of words continued, “He sounded like a nice guy. It must be nice having your family accept you for who you are. And even to help you out like that!”

  
Deans mouth went dry and something coiled in his stomach before he realized the man was waiting for a response, “Oh! Uh- yes. It is.”

  
He was starting to get a really horrible feeling about this appointment.

  
“So which of you is Dean and which is Castiel. Hang on I bet I can guess.”

  
“I am Castiel.” Castiel said from right behind Dean. He had apparently finished his once over of the place

  
“I knew it!”

  
“However did you guess?”

  
Dean left the two strangely easily conversing men to it and he wandered around the room, examining every inch of it for hex bags or anything else suspicious. Sure, Cas had already done it, but he was still training. Not to mention he didn’t really want to hear what the two were saying to each other, because it was now clear that this was couples counselling. And Dean wanted absolutely nothing to do with that shit.

  
Mostly it was a clean enough waiting area, a few wrappers hidden here and there, an old chocolate Easter egg that if Sam asks Dean absolutely did not eat, a dust bunny about the half size of his fist. But for the most part? Clean. And completely clean from any hex bags or any type of supernatural indicator. Which normally would have been good. But Dean just wanted this case done and over with and this town and its weirdo citizens in his review mirror.

  
Castiel laughter rang out around the small office and Dean turned with a smile blooming on his face. Whenever he heard Cas laugh something in him lit up and swelled, even if it wasn’t him causing it. Cas deserved to laugh more, and he had been recently. Sometimes Dean made a reference and Cas would laugh hard and loud, shocking Dean a little, and proclaim loudly, “I understand!” The best part about those moments was that Cas looked a little surprised by his own knowledge too.

  
Cas was grinning at the man now and thanking him for the story, which Dean had (probably blessedly) missed. “Yes, I know how fixated they get sometimes. There are days where Dean can only think about his work and he’s up to all hours of the night. Unfortunately it isn’t to try and mix different types of drinks.”

  
Dean hurried over to pull damage control for the question he knew was coming.

  
“Yeah, what does he do?” Whoop, there it is. He opened up his mouth to say some bullshit job title but Cas beat him to it.

  
“Well by day he’s a mechanic, but by night he’s a paranormal investigator.” Cas chuckles around the words and it sounds like water bubbling over rocks and its lovely.  
“Oh god, honey I’m so sorry. Does he ever take you on ‘hunts’ with him?”

  
“All the time. But It’s… interesting. I don’t mind.”

  
The secretary turned to look at Dean and stares him right in the eyes, “You hold on to him. That is the most fantastic and tolerant man you will ever meet.” He pauses, waiting for Dean’s response. When he realizes he isn’t going to get one he says, “You put a ring on that man’s finger before someone snatches him up.”

  
Dean swallows and nods, because otherwise the guy, whose name tag says ‘Tom’, will never stop holding his gaze. And that’s just making him uncomfortable. And Tom still doesn’t look convinced, so he reaches out and wraps an arm around Cas, pulling him close, “I would if he’d just say yes.”

  
Cas turns and looks at Dean, eyebrows raised, “I’m still waiting for a proposal that’s more than asking over doing the dishes.”

  
Tom grins at them and sighs, “You two make a lovely couple.”

“Thank you, Tom.” Castiel says, smiling at him but leaning into Dean.

  
There is a moment then, where Dean feels like he should be leaning forward, pressing a kiss to Castiel. Somewhere. Anywhere. His shoulder, his temple, his forehead, his hair. But the door jingles and Dean drops his arm from around Castiel’s warm, solid waist and turns to see who it is on instinct, bending his knees a little into an easy but casual looking fight stance.

  
There’s a woman in the doorway. Her eyes are fierce and piercing and she has the echoing easy confidence of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. She has a free trade coffee cup in her hand and a pencil skirt that just hedges on tight. She raises an eyebrow at them, because maybe Dean’s defensive stance is not as subtle as he thought, and maybe he has Cas behind him with his fists raised and ready to defended his- Castiel. He’s on high alert in this town, okay?

  
“Hello, Ms. Slade!” Sings Tom’s voice from behind them. Dean forces himself to relax his body and step back away from Cas.

  
“Hello, Tom.” Her voice sounded like a whip crack. Dena was getting weird vibes off this chick

  
“Ms. Slade, your four-o’clock is here.”

  
“Early? That’s a new one.”

  
“My brother told me it was a three thirty appointment.” Dean says, defending himself, for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge or name.

  
Slade grins and crosses an arm over her middle, “Ah. You must be the brother, Dean. Sam warned me about you. Said you’d try to duck out of it by any means available. Unfortunately all the techniques he suggested for holding you down were mostly illegal.”

Tom snorts and Dean rounds on him, glaring. “Shut up, Tom. Some of us aren’t total girls who enjoy talking about feelings.”

  
“Who told you we were talking about feelings?” Slade asks, her perfect eyebrow sliding into an arch, “We aren’t talking. I’m telling. Your brother sent you here because you were having trouble accepting your sexuality, even though you have a reportedly wonderful boyfriend, and I’m here to help you come to terms with it.”

  
“That bitch.”

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
“It’s the therapist Sam! She’s the one killing everyone—you can see it in her eyes. She’s fucking crazy!”

  
Sam didn’t look up from his newspaper and coffee, “You can’t accuse people of being some sort of murderous supernatural being just because you don’t like what they say, Dean.”

  
Oh, a fair was in town, and apparently they had the best jam in the tri-state area, that could be worth going to. After the case was solved of course.  
Dean flopped in the chair across from Sam and Castiel shut the motel door behind them, radiating contentedness as he leaned on the edge of the table. “She’s fucking crazy dude, she has no idea how people work, she’s obviously not a person.”

  
Sam had always been devious when he was a child. He studied people, found them interesting. Loved to hear their favorite colours and dreams and worst injuries. He was fascinated by how alone and individual everyone was in their own minds and how different each of the results of that insulation was.

  
There were a lot of benefits to being curious about people. A person can sense when someone is really and truly fascinated with them, and nothing in the world feels as wonderful and selfish as that. Sam gave those feelings to everyone he met, and so everyone he met had a soft spot for him, no matter if they knew about it or not.

  
He also got to know weaknesses of people intimately. They were surprisingly formulaic. Despite peoples huge, sprawling range in likes and dislikes, their fears were analogous. Mostly it stemmed from dying suddenly and unfulfilled. Or just dying in general, violent and bloody, without a scrap of humanity left.

  
Dean was unique here. Dean had absolutely no fear of dying. In fact, on his bad days, he wanted to. And god that knowledge cut Sam deep. Made his jaw tighten when he thought of life without his big brother, made his eyes mist when he thought of giving up on him. Deans only fear of death was that it would find Sam too soon. Find any of Deans loved ones too soon.

  
Dean’s other deep rooted fear was disapproval from said loved ones. God, how he acted around John was proof enough that he thought he needed his approval. Dean agreed with almost nothing their father said, Sam knew, Sam could tell, but he went along with it to have the love and approval he so desperately needed. He soon became exactly what John wanted him to be. Rough-and-tumble, shoot-first-ask-questions-later, ladies’ man with a passion for cars and killing what ought to be dead.

  
And now, seven years after their dad was dead and burned, Dean was finally allowing bits of his true personality to poke through and the more Sam saw of that the more he thought that maybe the only thing in the old Dean that was real was his weird unhealthy love of cars. And sometimes Sam thought back to all the times Dean had beat the shit out of the impala and how their father had said in passing that Dean couldn’t take care of her and it was like the whole world was come crashing down around his ears, or about how Dean never showed any interest in cars other than his own. Sometimes he thought the car was just a replacement for all the love and affection Dean wanted to be able to show his mother, but wasn’t able to.

  
And that was the root of it, wasn’t it? The death of their mom. That’s why Dean wanted the approval, so that people wouldn’t leave him. Wouldn’t see a horrible side of him and get away as fast as possible.

  
So Dean buried the parts of him that would scare people off. The nerd-tastic, soap opera loving, fashion conscious, bisexual man that he was.  
Sam was pretty sure Dean was bisexual. Sam was pretty sure Dean was in love with Cas for that matter. But fuck if he wanted to talk about it with them, he wasn’t trained for that sort of thing!

  
And the idea had unfolded in his head to get someone to talk to them who was qualified. And sure, let Dean think it was a big joke, because Dean would take it like that, if he couldn’t blow it off. Because it would plant a seed in him. Or maybe, a more accurate metaphor would be put a crack in his armor.

  
And all Sam wanted was for it to crumble away so he could meet the brother he’d been catching glimpses of his whole life.

  
So boy was this a convenient case.

  
“Did the session go that badly?” Sam asked Castiel, smirking. It sounded a lot like his plan had worked perfectly.

  
“I thought it went quite well. Dean had to tell me all the reasons he loves me—“

  
“Appreciates you!”

  
“—Yes, Dean, of course. And then Ms. Slade and I had a very honest chat about what could be causing Dean the emotional barrier in accepting who he is and she suggested we talk to you. It seems like Dean is scared to not be accepted for all of who he is, so he puts up a fr--“

  
“Are we seriously going to listen to that old bats advice? Guys, she’s the monster. Let’s ice her and get out of here! Not take her completely false and bullshit advice and sit around yapping about feelings! That’s obviously her plan and playing along with it will result in more deaths. Come on guys.”

  
Sam and Cas shot Dean a look, and then turned back to each other.

  
Sam put down his newspaper and Dean made a groaning sound, knowing that meant Sam was actually serious about this.

  
“I think she’s right, Dean was never really comfortable being himself around dad, and I want him to be comfortable enough around me and you to be honest with us, but that seems like he isn’t yet.”

  
Cas nodded slowly and took a sip of Sam’s coffee before remembering he hated the way Sam took it and setting it back down. “I want Dean to be comfortable with us too--“  
“Hello guys? I’m right here?”

  
“I’ve tried dropping hints that it would be fine if he where any sexuality and that I wouldn’t care. Well I’d care but not in a bad way.” Sam crossed his arms and leaned back, rubbing his chin, “And I mean, obviously you’re fine with it.”

  
“Are you seriously just going to ignore me, that has got to be the most childish thing—hang on why would Cas be fine with it?”

  
Castiel turned to Dean for the first time since walking into the hideously coloured and decorated room and smiled at him softly, “Because if I had a chance that you loved me back I wouldn’t exactly be upset about it, Dean. Not to mention I’m was an angel. Made of gods love ring any bells for you? I don’t hate any form of love, let alone ones that can stand strong even in the face of adversity.”

  
“Love you back…?” Dean asked quietly, refusing to meet Castiels eyes until he could come up with a suitably jaunty one liner. “What—are you getting too involved in your role again? Method acting is only for actors who suck Cas, and the shit you pulled in that office was pure improv genius.”

  
“No Dean,” Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, genuinely confused, “everything I said in Ms. Slade’s office was the truth. You know I’m a horrible actor.”

  
Sam quietly stood and left the motel room, closing the door soundlessly behind him. The look on Deans’ face after Cas admitted that… whatever had been said was real. That was the real Dean, hopeful and just slightly distrusting but wanting so desperately to believe he was loved. Sam smiled as he slid the newspaper under his arm and walked out from under the trellis and into the sunshine. He loved helping people, especially when those people where Cas and Dean.

  
As it turned out, Dean was right. Slade was the one killing off all her clients. Luckily no one else had to die, although Tom became worryingly close.

  
After they had killed Slade (she had to be smothered to death with insulation—it was strange but boy was everyone glad Slade had chosen to hold Tom captive in an attic) and made sure Tom wasn’t too torn up they sat down to some French fries at the 24 hour drive thru in town. Tom had asked to join them, as he hadn’t eaten since the last night and he already had called his boyfriend to let him know he was safe.

  
“I’m sorry about that whole situation in Slade’s office, by the way.” Tom said, twelve fries shoved in his mouth at once, “If I had known you two weren’t really dating I would have been way different.”

  
Sam waited and watched as he stuck a fork in his limp salad, wishing he had asked for salad dressing. Dean coughed and turned a little red around the ears, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes when he reached out and tangled his fingers with Castiels’.

  
“You weren’t really that far off, honestly.” He muttered, before stuffing the last half of his burger in his mouth as some sort of bizarre posturing about who could fit the most fast food in their mouth. Castiel won.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm no longer in the supernatural fandom, but I was going through some of my old files trying to clean up my computer and found a few kicking around that I wanted to share. This is the most complete this fic will ever be and although it's a long way form my planned level of detail, I still think I should share it, so I hope you enjoyed. :)


End file.
